Seven years ago today at 2:45am I woke up.

I didn’t know why I was suddenly jarred awake.

A few hours later, the call came.

Sammy was born at 2:43 that morning.

At 4:45 the agency called. His first mom had decided that she did want to meet me. Our closed adoption was now going to open right up.

She was waiting to hear from me.

She was what?  Welcome to parenthood: make no assumptions or plans.

Sam’s favorite part of the story is when I ran all around the house screaming; “He’s born. My son is born. Oh my God. He’s born. He’s here. Oh my God. My son.” Or something like that.

I was the only one there.

But, not for much longer.

His Tia spent the night here last night to help celebrate #1 this morning. She is the one who joined me in our 36 hour (due to weather , not distance) traveling adventure to Sam.  The first time I held him was at early on the morning of December 24th.To read an  account of that day, you can go to my essay called; “Taking Care of the Sad Part.”

Right now Sam is playing “In the jungle, the mighty jungle the lion sleeps tonight..” on the keyboard.

Sam’s goals for the coming year:

Drop in at the big bowl (skateboard park lingo).

Play all the songs I want on the piano.

Go to the bounce house.

Go to the roller rink.

Snow board better than anyone.

Read a chapter book.

Talk to my birth father.

Eat candy whenever I want.

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Happy Birthday Baby. This is the anniversary of one of the two happiest days of my life.   And, it always will be.

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post script: This is my 400th post, on the 7th anniversary of Sam’s birth. Dag gone cool.